


to see with myriad eyes

by Jaxin



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, F/M, because the idea of Jyn punching Cassian during the rescue from Wobani is irresistible to me, minor canon tweaking, outsider perspective(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9713897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxin/pseuds/Jaxin
Summary: The Alliance has eyes everywhere. Sometimes, they just don't know what they're seeing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another contribution towards 1,000 Jyn/Cassian fics by Valentine's Day, inspired by jeeno2. There will be more to this story eventually, but I have a longer fic I'm focusing on right now- but regardless, I hope y'all enjoy it!

** Cassian **

He is a mystery, Cassian Andor. Rina Llux knows that this is why he is such an effective intelligence officer, his rank an open secret around the base on Yavin IV. They joined the Alliance at the same time, the two of them, both orphans of a lost world at the ripe old age of twelve. Unlike Cassian, though, Rina had not already spent half her life fighting monsters too big to see.

They might share the same birth month, but that is as close as their experiences are, and Rina is thankful for that. She prefers the pure adrenaline of flight to hiding in the shadows, knife constantly in hand. Still. She can't deny the comfort she finds in knowing that her cohort hasn't been lost entirely. On the days when ghosts crowd the empty hallways, there is something soothing in seeing him around the base, his solemn presence a familiar landmark of her life.

They make bets about him, the new recruits, when the weeks grow long without purpose.

She is used to the waiting, a byproduct of having spent more than half her life in the Alliance. The recruits are invariably unprepared for how  _ boring _ being part of the Rebellion is, and she gave up on entertaining them long ago. They need to learn how to make their own fun, preferably fun that doesn't involve her. She doesn't join the betting pools about whether or not General Draven is married (he isn't, not anymore, but she saw him clutching a hologram of a smiling woman and child, once) to when the next caf supply will come in (seven cycles from now, and she is first in line) to who will win the training races around the moon (it's often her, although Antilles is offering her real competition these days).

When she overhears them making bets about the intimidating Captain Andor, though, Rina pauses around the corner to listen.

“Five credits that Captain Andor's never smiled.”

“Everybody smiles, Korvath. You just want more money.”

The first speaker, Korvath, sounds impatient. “No, I mean  _ really  _ smiled. Not for a mark or anything. Just smiled.”

The other voice snorts. “No way. His best friend's a robot. He wouldn't know an honest emotion if it punched him in the face.”

They laugh, voices slurred with the particular lassitude of the sleep-deprived. Her eyebrows have risen as she listens, and she leans against the hallway wall for a long moment. Now that she thinks about it, she doesn't think she's ever seen him actually smile. He's been there for over half her life, and she can count how many times they're talked on two hands. She trusts him, of course. The Alliance would fall apart if its soldiers didn't trust each other, and they are both good soldiers. But she doesn't know him, and something tells her that is by design. He is an intelligence officer, after all. The fewer people that know him, the better. But it must be a very lonely way to live.

She shrugs herself off the wall and heads around the corner, throwing a polite solute at the ensigns standing there. She doesn't have time to wonder about him. She has supply missions to run, and he chose his path a long time ago.

She brushes off the ache that comes with that thought. A part of her knows, better than most, that the path chose him.

It's easier to think that he had a choice, because then she can believe that she had one, too.

** Jyn **

She is a livewire, Liana Hallik. On someone else, her small stature might seem delicate, ethereal. Instead, she walks like a coiled spring, all tension and energy just waiting to be unleashed. Paolo Mendell guides her to the guest quarters and warily keeps an eye on her the whole way. There are whispers of who she is on the base, though only the Council knows for sure, and they won't be meeting with her until tomorrow.

The Council knows, and Captain Andor. That she is significant enough to warrant a personal rescue mission from the stone-faced captain makes Paolo nervous. Captain Andor himself makes Paolo nervous. He was recruited by the man, as what Paolo now knows was an incidental bonus on one of Captain Andor’s missions for the Alliance. There had been a softness to him, when they first met, a fire in his dark eyes that Paolo couldn’t help but respond to. Now he knows that was a result of good research and better acting than Paolo had seen in years of being an apprentice player, and after Paolo finally made his way to the Rebel base, Captain Andor had simply nodded at him and moved on to his next mission.

It stings more than he likes to admit.

His imagination had been filled with glamorous intrigue when he decided to join the Alliance. He had dreamed that he would have months-long missions off base where he could put his actor’s training to good use. Instead, he is ferrying around a doll-like woman who walks with the grim purpose of a street brawler. Still. He is intelligence, and nothing is ever straightforward with them. This could be a test, and if it is, he is determined not to fail it. So he lets his pout become more pronounced, lets his shoulders slump discontentedly, and notes her reactions as they meander through the base.

Her bound hands twitch toward her thigh when they pass a group of infantry recruits running weapons drills, and a corner of her mouth curls in derision as the drill sergeant barks at the group to disassemble their weapons and start again. She eyes the quartermaster’s office with something near greed, but when they walk past the mess hall, she flinches away from the boisterous humor that spills out the doors. 

His eyebrows pull together for a moment before he smooths his face back into unremarkable grumpiness. The jokes told on base are never polite. They are in the middle of a war, after all, and sometimes laughing at horror is all that keeps you from screaming at it. But he doesn’t think it’s squeamishness that darkens her green eyes. She keeps glancing back as they pass it, though her shoulders tighten every time she does.

It hits him like a meteorite. He sees it in his own mirror, whenever he thinks about Captain Andor. It’s longing. 

She is a solitary creature. Everything about her movements telegraphs it. She is a fighter who is used to guarding her own back. But from the way her eyes catch on the groups of Rebels that work together all over the base, she wasn’t always so alone. And he would bet a standard month’s pay (as if the Rebellion ever pays them) that she misses it, misses being part of something.

He delivers her to the guest quarters, and pushes down the knot in his stomach when they turn the last corner and find Captain Andor waiting beside the door to her small room. He nods at Paolo with a bare flicker of recognition in his dark eyes. 

“Private Mendell. I’ll take it from here.”

She snorts, an aggressive, unpleasant sound. Paolo would guess that it’s the only kind of sound she cares to make. “It? Nice to know I’ve been downgraded.”

Captain Andor’s eyes flicker down to her, his mouth thinning, and Paolo blinks in surprised recognition. Irritation. Whoever she is, Liana Hallik has managed to push Captain Andor’s buttons, and from the look on his face, she’s been doing it since they met. Paolo wonders if she knows how rare that is. “You have a room for the night, complete with a refresher. I’d suggest you take advantage of it before you meet with the Council tomorrow morning.”

She scowls as he punches in the code to open her door, and Paolo tries to leave as inconspicuously as possible. “Charming.”

Now Captain Andor is the one who snorts. “You punched me in the face when we rescued you. Somehow, I don’t care about being  _ charming _ right now.”

Her green eyes narrow, and Paolo turns the corner reluctantly, then pauses. It’s not  _ spying _ . He’s just… gathering intel. “Your droid almost broke my clavicle, and as far as I can tell, you’ve just moved me from one jail cell to another. Sorry if I’m not overflowing with gratitude.”

“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t care.” It takes Paolo a moment to recognize the change in Captain Andor’s voice, and when he does, his jaw drops open. It sounds almost like he’s amused. Hallik, or whoever she is, just growls, and when Captain Andor speaks again, his tone is back to all business. “I’ll retrieve you at 0700 hours. Try to get some rest before then.” A pause. “You look like you need it.”

Her voice is tense, and Paolo finally makes himself leave. “It doesn’t sound like I have much choice.”

“No. You don’t.”

He didn’t plan to, but as Paolo leaves to report to his superior officer, he almost finds himself feeling bad for Liana Hallik. For all that the Alliance talks about being of the people, for the people, his time in intelligence has made it all too clear that it is the cause that matters, not the people.

Still. He hopes, to his own surprise, that she finds somewhere to belong.

Just, maybe somewhere away from Captain Andor.

Paolo refuses to acknowledge that he is blushing.


End file.
